Today I opened up my email and got a pleasant surprise. Someone had signed my weddingchannel.com guest book!! Woo-hooo!!! I actually forgot I even made a wedding page on there, it was a long time ago. Let's just say I try to get creative when I'm bored, so I made a page to announce the wedding of myself and Darth Vader. I even made a very poorly rendered photoshop picture of Darth and myself, enjoying a vacation. Feel free to stop by and enjoy my wedding page!
If you are too damn lazy to click on the link, here's what Benjamin Smash of California wrote for the Dark Lord and me:
Benjamin Smash - CA 3|9|2004

Oh you two. I'm so happy you finally got married. Everyone saw it coming. Trish, whenever you feel you're being treated unfaily, pray Darth doesn't alter the arrangement - he's a stickler for changing plans. And Darth, Trish is impressive, most impressive, when it comes to cooking up some deep-fried Wompa so try to be patient. I saw a couple of the photos from your proof book, and that wacky Palpatine breaking the glass with his finger-lightning before Darth could step on it - man that was funny. And you should have see the looks on people's faces. Good time. Mazal Tov. -Benjamin

Now I don't know what deep fried Wompa is, but boy does that sound GOOOOOOOD! So thanks, Benjamin, wherever you are. Darth and I are very touched by your kind words and sage advise. Mazel Tov to you, my friend.

Hey I made a new title for my blog! One time when I was really little, I made an audio tape of myself explaining how to make your very own Princess Diana crown out of paper, crayons and glue. Lisa found the tape. She has yet to stop teasing me about it. No one knows what happened to the tape, but it's out there. Somewhere out there. Out where dreams come true.
To quote myself,"You could even put STARS all over it. Or, your baby sister.......could HAVE it...."

You know, this sucks. I've been meaning to post for a few days now, and I keep thinking of these great topics. Last night I thought of two really good ones, and as soon as I turn on my computer.....nothing. I got nothing. It's a distant cousin to the dreaded music store disease. You have a long list of CD's you want, ones that you've put off buying or ones you didn't realize you wanted, and you say to yourself, "Self, remember to buy 'Solitude/Solitaire' by Peter Cetera.". But then you walk in the door of Sam Goody and before you know it, you are wandering around aimlessly, blinded by the Photoshop'd Chrome and Diamond logos on the rap CD's, and you're saying to yourself,"What the hell was I looking for??". And it's only several weeks later, when "The Karate Kid pt. 2" is on TNT, and you hear "Glory of Love" bellowing at you from the 1980's, that you realize, "OH YEAH!!!! That's what I wanted!! OK, next time I go, I definitely won't forget....". Well, it's like that.

Has anyone ever heard of the Emu Whisperer? I'm not making that up, I promise. I tried to look up stuff about him on the internet today so I could put a neat little link on my site to it, but I couldn't find a damn thing. When Lisa and I were watching Animal Planet's "Most eXtreme" on Wednesday night, they did a short segment about this old, eccentric guy who is a self-proclaimed Emu Whisperer. He was a dirty, sloppy heavyset old man, probably about 70 or so. The brim of his hat had been torn, and was partially hanging down over the side of his face, (maybe an Emu tore it trying to whisper back to him?), and his clothes looked like they haven't been washed in a considerable amount of time. Anyway, he apparrently hobbles out to a field somewhere (Animal Planet did not specify where) and lays down on his back in the grass and dirt, and raises his legs in the air. He waves his legs around, and knocks them together, and makes a sound like he has something caught in his very dry old throat. If I had to try to type the sound he makes, it would probably be:"KhuuuuuuggggguuuuuhhhhhhhhHHHHk.". It was so funny because the Emus (Emi?) didn't seem to really give a crap about this guy, they were just walking around, looking at trees and stuff, and none of them seemed to understand whatever intricate message this old man was trying to give these animals. Somehow, Lisa and I ended up talking about the old man being Ed Asner, loudly croaking to the Emus,"Suck my dick, EMU!! HEY! Suck it! Suuuuuck it!". Also, the song "Can't buy Me Love" would be playing in the background. I guess you had to be there.
Suck my dick, Emus!

I took the book quiz, and I'm....

You're The Great Gatsby!
by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Having grown up in immense wealth and privilege, the world is truly at your doorstep. Instead of reveling in this life of luxury, however, you spend most of your time mooning over a failed romance. The object of your affection is all but worthless--a frivolous liar--but it matters not to you. You can paint any image of the past you want and make it seem real. If you were a color of fishing boat light, you would be green.

Personally I always thought that if I was a color of fishing boat light, I'd be yellow, but okay. Having grown up in the glitzy world of being an heir to the family fortune, I care not of such matters.

Lisa is home sick from work today. She's got a sore throat, and therefore is sick. She's pretty much the only person who emails me, so I'm very bored. I even did actual "work" for a while there. Shudder. My boss sent me to the post office a little while ago, so that was fun. I hit some guy's car with my door when I was trying to get out of my car. It was totally not my fault though, I tried my best not to do it. But he was parked way over the line, and all crooked. I hate people that do that. Just take the time to back up and straighten out, for Pete's sake.
Once inside, the post office seemed to glow with enchantment and magic. As I pushed open the ornately carved, mother-of-pearl doors, I was greeted by three tiny fairies, who attached a chain of flowers to each corner of my package and gave the chains to four beautiful blue birds. As the birds carried my parcel to a little green elf sitting on a toadstool, the fairies filled out the proper "Airmail" forms and labels for me. Another elf was playing beautiful music on a pan flute while a chorus of white mice sang a soft lullabye with their tiny voices. I was treated to some raspberry tea, served in an upside-down tulip, and some candied plums, dipped in sugar and lime. A white dove invited me to sit on a fluffy cloud, and I drifted lazily as my package was prepared for next day arrival with a signature required. Once my transaction was complete, and I had paid the shipping costs to a small black kitten in a red tuxedo and tophat, the cloud I was resting upon carried me through the opalescent doors to my car, as all the small woodland friends I had just made waved and bid me "Good Day, Sweet Lady! Farewell!". Many people are unaware, but post offices are full of ancient magicks.

For some reason, I have something stuck in my head all morning. It's from an old SNL sketch where Eddie Murphy was "Little Richard Simmons", and he's dancing and singing "Tuttie Frutti" as these fat ladies are doing aerobics, and one of the lines from his song is "She got blubber to da East, blubber to da West, the bitch got long and floppy breasts, Tutti Frutti.....". Anyway, that's the line I've had in my head all day. Floppy breasts, that's funny.

I don't like people who start off stories or proclamations with "I'll tell you what...". My mom used to date a guy who did that all the time, and I'll tell you what, I hated that guy! Upon first arriving in Arizona, while we were looking at the many mountain ranges surrounding the airport, Lisa and I were met with,"I'll tell you what, once you get up in those mountains, boy...you won't even believe it. This is God's Country, man. Whew. I'll tell you what.". This was in turn met with blank stares from both Lisa and myself, and later repeated and mocked in hushed voices in the back seat of the car as we were leaving the majestic airport. God's Country. Please.

Oh Shitstain.

$2,500.00. That is a lot of money. With that kind of money, one could go on a pretty decent vacation, or pay off some credit card bills, or put it into savings towards their future. Guess what I have to do with $2,500.00? Pay the IRS.
I am monumentally pissed off about this. I should probably let you know that the only reason I owe this money is because I failed to pay my taxes from January 1st to July 31st of 2003. Why didn't I pay my taxes? Well, it seems someone forged my signature and filed a few forms to mark me "EXEMPT" from taxes. I have been working here for 4 years, and I've never changed a damn thing about my tax info, so I didn't think to start checking to make sure I was paying taxes. Why the hell would I do that, since I was under the stupid assumption that ONLY I had the power to change my personal tax information? Silly me. The other thing was, I got a raise at the beginning of last year, so suddenly having larger paychecks didn't raise a red flag for me. The only reason I caught it was because my job got a new bookkeeper who noticed that I hadn't paid a dime to Uncle Sam. She also told me that only about 5% of people in the U.S. are eligible for "Exempt" status, and that those who attempt to file for it without qualifiying get marked on their records for tax evasion. This mark can remain on file for about 7 years.
It's not that I can't get the money. I will definitely have to empty my savings, and cut a lot of corners, but I'm gonna make sure to pay it in full when I mail my taxes in. But it's just not fair, I had plans for that money. I was going to move to L.A. with Kane over the summer. And the worst part about this whole situation is the girl who did this was supposed to be my friend. Ouch.
Okay, end of tantrum. Whining is for bitches anyway.
Over the weekend, some random chain of events led me to seeing two episodes of "The Real World". If you've been reading my blog, you know that I don't like this show. These two episodes are the longest I've ever sat through that shit, and they confirmed why I hate people in my age group. In the course of one hour, I saw a 19-yr old girl get turned away at a club for trying to use a fake ID, I saw another girl violently punch some guy for teasing the 19 yr old, then get arrested for assault and cry her heavily lined eyes out about it, I saw a two drunken, belligerent frat guys acting like asses, one of whom got arrested for public drunkenness, and some punk-goth-dirty girl who has a boyfriend back home, drunkenly hook up with the drunk guy who did not get arrested. This girl (I didn't catch her name) then calls her boyfriend the next day sounding all guilty, claiming she can't remember anything that happened the night before, but denied hooking up with anyone. If you can't remember anything, how do you know? They broke up and the girl was sobbing uncontrollably. The 19 yr old was supporting her, saying how he's not worth it, which is good logic, considering he's not the one who cheated. The only person who made any goddamn sense on this show was the black guy with the glasses (didn't catch his name, either). He was the only one sober, and had to keep calling different jails and people's parents to try to get $8000 to bail the girl out of jail. But if he really had any sense, he'd pack up his shit and move out of that house, leaving all those drunk whiney babies to fend for themselves. Oh, there was also some asian girl there, who's main purpose it seemed was to stand around in a mini skirt, mouth agape, and say,"OH NO!" about everything.
Great show. Can't wait for "Real World: Philadelphia".

Last night Kane's dad took Kane and me to go see "Othello" at the Herberger Theater. For those of you who aren't into Shakespeare or who missed the movie "O" starring Mekhi Pfifer and Julia Stiles, here's what "Othello" is about: These two pals, Iago and Roderigo, can't raise enough money to pay for college, so they concoct a crazy scheme to sell chinese whores to rich men, but then their van breaks down. So the guys and the whores get out and try to change the tire, but along comes a tour bus, and who gets out?? Billy Squier. That's right, the "Stroke Me" man himself, I swear to GOD! Billy is on his way to Venice to play a big concert, but his manager was recently shot in the head, so he needs a new manager. Old Man McConcert won't let him on stage without a manager! So Iago and Roderigo volunteer to manage Billy, in return for ONE MILLION DOLLARS. After much hemmin' and a-hawin', and a serious of 'mis-adventures', one of which includes Iago mistakenly drinking urine out of a homeless guy's boot, Billy Squier agrees to let them be his managers, and they get to Venice and party like madmen. And then some black dude kills his white wife. Then right before the play ends, we see Roderigo selling a few chinese whores at the concert. Iago approaches him, saying that they don't have to do that anymore, they have more than enough dough to get to college, and Roderigo replies,"I know, but we'll ALSO need new mountain bikes to get to class with!". They boys exchange a hearty belly laugh, then Iago pulls out a gun and shoots Roderigo.
It was a kick ass play.
But if you go to a play, here's a tip. Try not to sit near anyone who's gonna be having coughing fits throughout the entire show, and also try to avoid anyone who goes,"OOOH! OH WOW! OH NO!" anytime anything happens on stage, and then laughs really loud at nothing. Ma'am, we can tell you don't understand Shakespeare. It's okay, you don't need to overcompensate.

Well, this has been a pretty good couple of days so far. Everyone in my office left yesterday morning to go to a jewelry show in Tucson, and I have been left behind to run the office. YAY! I really hate trade shows. I know a jewelry trade show probably sounds cooler than most, but trust me, it's not. First of all, my boss is a huge micro-manager, and at these shows she just goes berserk. She dictates when we sleep, eat or go to the bathroom. Seriously, you can't eat until she's ready to eat, which is never because she just survives on Powerbars and protein powder. Not only that, but everyone walks around in their suits and fur coats, flaunting their fake tans and boob jobs. And most of the men are perverts, and it seems like the main reason they go to the shows is to get away from their wives and have affairs. Yuck. Not only that, but all expensive jewelry looks exactly the same after a while. I only like the $5 necklaces and rings from Claire's boutique, thank you very much.
So this year I'm off the hook. And I get to play music in the office!! This is usually frowned upon, so I'm taking advantage of the situation. Right now I'm listening to Policy of Truth by Depeche Mode and blowing bubbles with my strawberry gum. I've still been getting my work done, but it's really nice to take a break once in a while without someone looking over my shoulder. Except for Stevie, the Invisible Goat. But Stevie don't care. Stevie likes oats.
So I don't know about you, but if I hear one more fucking thing about Janet Jackson's mammary, I'm going to walk to L.A., find her house and knock on the door and punch her fake nose off. I heard about it on my alarm clock this morning, I saw news about it scrolling across the bottom of the tv screen during the news when I was getting ready for work, I heard about it on Howard Stern which made me switch to another radio station, then I heard about it on THAT radio station, and then EVERY WEBSITE I go on says something about it. Please shut the hell up. I think it was very retarded, and I also think the Britney/Madonna thing was retarded, and that Bennifer was retarded, and that kid who played Corky on "Life Goes On" was DEFINITELY retarded.
One can only hope that Adrien Brody will take one of his balls out at the Oscars, so America will have something new to talk about.

Ugh, I ate too much Shogun Express for lunch today. The small just looked so....small...ya know? I had to go for the large size. What an ass. I feel as sick as a newborn goat.
Anyway, has anyone had a chance to look at my company website? There's a cute lil' link over on the right, there. Yeah, towards the top of the page. Uh-huh, that's the one. Anyway, I designed that website. It's pretty cool, since I never made one before, but next I want to learn how to make a Flash movie. I took a class at school where they taught Flash, but I think I was too busy falling out of my chair and quoting Billy Madison to care. There's a flash movie on the site already, but it was made by the guy who designed our old website. I think it stinks. The pictures of the jewelry look really bad, and the music bites a nut. If you go to the jewelry section, and click on What's New (which is a lie because none of the shit in there is new anymore), you can see what his old website looked like. It was so boring. Someday I'll get in there and fix that shit, and update the "What's New" section to NOT include stuff that nobody bought or stuff that got stolen. It's hard though because I'm pretty lazy.
If you go to the bracelet section, you can see what takes up the bulk of my time and energy. Rainbow sapphire bracelets. I make those, and then we send them to Hong Kong to be set in gold. Classy, eh? It takes a pretty long time to make one rainbow, although I'm much faster at it than I used to be. They are really popular in San Francisco. No really, they are!
Oh, the other thing I meant to write about today was, Kane had this really great idea. You know how in that movie "The Others", how Nicole Kidman finds that book of pictures of dead people? I guess in the olden days, when someone died, people would prop up and pose their deceased loved ones and take a picture of them. I can't believe how creepy that is. Anyway, Kane was thinking that it would be funny if stores would put those photos in picture frames instead of pictures of people posing or sailing or riding a bike or something. Even if the sales of frames dropped off dramatically, at least it'd give people something to think about.
Well I think it's funny.

Last night Lisa and I went to her gym, since she got me a free two week membership. Finally I'm part of SOMETHING! Anycrap, we did the workout thing, then got some dinner, and went to buy some assorted groceries, which included Lisa's purchase of Rollitos. It was an exciting time.
So she drove me home around 9:00, and on our way, we listened to "Africa" by Toto. The only thing was, Lisa started going off on a tangent about how great it was that Toto managed to use "Killamanjaro" (I think I waaay mis-spelled that one) in a song, and she was like,"Did you hear that? They said 'Seren-get-EEEE!'!!". I had to pee really bad, so I was like, "No, umm, I gotta go.....", but Lisa insisted I hear this part of the song."Wait just one second, let me rewind it.", so I sat as she tried to cue up that part of the song again, but she kept stopping the tape too soon, and it kept stopping right AFTER the miraculous line. I tried again to say goodnight so I could go empty my bladder, but then Lisa said."No! You gotta hear this!!" and locked the car doors. She maniacally kept rewinding and stoppping the tape, rewinding and stopping, rewinding and stopping, UNTIL....."blah blah blah SERENGETTI..". With a crazy laugh, my sister declared it was okay for me to leave and go pee. This is a chilling example of what can happen if Toto falls into the wrong hands!
As I was getting my shopping bags from the backseat, I told her, "I'm gonna blog about this.". She said, no I wouldn't , I would never embarass her like that.
Here Endeth the Blog.

Am I the only person who saw that Bush's State of the Union address was on tv last night and changed the channel as quickly as possible? Look, I know I am supposed to care, but how the hell can I get into this stuff? It is sooooooo boring. It might be different if there were real people involved in politics, but all I see is suits, suits and suits. Even the ladies are in suits. These people live in another world, not in America. People in America don't wear suits even on the weekends, and act and speak so conservatively. Real people wear logo t-shirts and jeans and baseball hats and stuff, and they tell it like it is. Even if they have a vast knowledge of "college" words, they don't go throwing it around in everyone's face, like they are better than everyone else. And why don't any of these political people smile or anything? Sure, they give old Bushy the subdued, polite laugh when he tries to make a joke to appeal to the masses. But for the most part, I think if you want to appeal to the masses, you should be a part of us masses.
I wish politicians were more like my dad. My dad is a mechanic, and he's out there all day working his ass off and getting covered in grease and dirt, and trying his best to do his job. So if someone like my dad appeared on tv, wearing his navy blue work clothes, all tired from working all day, his old brown workboots covered in grease and oil stains, and said,"Listen, I've been doing my best to avoid it, but we're gonna have to send some troops over there. We've really gotta sort this shit out, so just be patient and know that everything's gonna be okay.", I'd be 100 times more likely to pay attention and really give a crap. This guy would be right in there, fighting along with everyone else, not having lived the priveledged life of George W. Bush. This guy wouldn't give it a second thought, he'd spend his money on helping America, not buying yet another grey suit and a private jet. I would trust him a lot more. Hell, I'd probably even vote, too. I'd vote for the guy who's been a farmer his whole life just like his father before him, who's son is over in Iraq. I'd vote for the female candidate in the green Christmas sweater with the white collar sewn on to it. She was at that church bazzaar last Sunday, she's been hearing some things, and she and her husband Ed and their cat, Scratches, are ready to do something about it. I'd rather hear what she has to say.
End of speech.

Hey wow. You know that thing that you do where you stare at a spot on your desk or your hand or something, and let your eyes sorta fuzz out, like get all blurry. Well, I just realized I've been doing that for a really long time. What is that thing? I heard somewhere that it's a form of a seizure, but I don't think I'm having seizures. I think my job is just really dull.
So anyway, here's a quote from a phone conversation Lisa and I had a few nights ago. "Be sure to thoroughly coat your vulva with your favorite parfum."
You can take that in any context you want.
Oh wow, great Blog today, huh?
WHOOP ASS.

My grandmother called me last night, which is weird because she never does, she only calls me when she forgets Lisa's number. That makes twice this week. I wasn't home to get the first call on Tuesday night, but she left a really great message on my machine. Apparently she had tried to call Lisa, and was "very concerned that something is wrong". See, Lisa has a message on her answering machine, where she says, "Hi, this is Lisa and Tom, we can't get to the phone right now..." then you hear Mr. T's voice saying, "Don't gimme no back talk, sucka! Quit your jibba jabba!!". It's a great message, but apparently the humor was lost on old Oma. On the message she left me, she rambled on about how the strangest thing happens when she calls Lisa, and that I better call and check it out, because something could be very wrong. I guess in my grandmother's world, when someone breaks in to your house your first instinct would be to run to the answering machine and record a new message.
So last night she called while I was eating dinner, and at first I was going to let the machine get it, but then I felt bad because I didn't call her back the other day. The thing is, if you decide to call her or pick up the phone when she calls, you have to be prepared for at least an hour and a half of hearing her drone on and on about someone you've never met from "the lodge" who has a daughter whose friend is married to a man who is in "the service" and has a cousin who.......etc. After seeing her number on the caller ID, and rolling my eyes to nobody, I reluctantly picked up the phone and said hello, and for the next 45 minutes I didn't get another word out. She is the queen of talking over people and interrupting you when you do actually get to say anything. That drives me crazy. Usually after the first 45 minutes of hearing the most random, boring stories that have absolutely no point or relevance whatsoever, she finally asked me, "So is Lisa okay? Did you try to call her? You know, the strangest thing happened when I tried to call her on Tuesday...". Before she can launch into telling me about it, I cut her off (YAY!) and explain the message to her, and it went a little something like this:
me: Well, it's a toy that Lisa has, and when you push buttons on it, it says things.
Oma: WHAT?
me: It's a joke message, Lisa has a toy that says funny things when you push buttons on it.
Oma: WHAT? A toy?
me: Yes, a toy.
Oma: a toy WHAT?
me: When you push the buttons, it talks like Mr. T? Do you remember Mr. T, from the 80's?
Oma: WHO?
me: Mr. T?
Oma: I don't......WHO?
me: Mr. T. He was on the tv show 'The A-Team'? He's a big black guy with a mohawk and lots of gold chains?
Oma: He has a WHAT?
me: he used to wear all these big gold chains...
Oma: Who is this now?
me: MR. T!!!! HE'S A BIG BLACK GUY WITH A MOHAWK AND LOTS OF GOLD CHAINS!!!!!
Oma: I don't know who these BLACK people are!
me: (silence)
Oma: Thank goodness Lisa is alright!

I feel I should also mention that my grandmother is a racist. Maybe you guessed that. Holy shit, I hate talking to my
grandmother.

I have a real problem with people who pronounce stuff stupid.
ACTUAL WORD............................COMMON MISPRONUNCIATION
supposedly.............................................supposably
height.....................................................heighth
sandwich................................................sanwidge
groceries................................................grosheries
railroad..................................................rareroad
wash......................................................warsh
Regina(as in the name)..........................Regina(sounds like Vagina)

My boss says that last one. She insists that it's the proper way to pronounce the name, in her native Canada. She makes no sense. HEY! Who here loved Ashton Kutcher's cameo in "Cheaper by the Dozen", huh?!?!! Oh, yeah I didn't see it either. Aaaaaaalright.
When will Ashton Kutcher be found dead in a pool of his own sick? And stop yelling everything instead of saying it! I think he might have some kind of hearing problem, and I think the solution would be to jam a screwdriver in his ear.
Shit.

I am home sick today. I got a sore throat before I went to bed last night, then BOOM! I got woken up in the night by soreness in my throat!! AHHHHH! Painful sore soreness!!
It's making me think about that old commercial for some type of sore throat medicine, and it was a little girl in bed, with the blankets pulled up to her neck, and she was chanting "It'll hurt if I swallow, it'll hurt if I swallow, it'll hurt if I..." (girl swallows painfully) "MOMMY!". Jeez that was a great commercial.
Now I'm off to watch "Cheating Death" stories on Montel. Some dude is talking about a snake "sinkin' in". I don't know what the snake was sinkin' in to, but I'm bout to find out. Aside from my throat hurting, I love staying home! WOOOOO!

Before I begin this story, let it be known that my sister is, and always will be accident prone. The prosecution rests. When we moved to Arizona, Lisa and I used to share an apartment, and it wasn't much but we called it home. In the spring of 2000, we decided to part ways. She planned to move in with Tom, and I planned to move in with nobody. I rented a one-br apartment in the same complex, which made moving really easy. My moving day came first, and I had two of my friends, Dan and John, come over to help me. Everything was going smoothly, except for John bitching about how heavy all my stuff was, but overall it was a successful move. UNTIL WE MOVED THE COUCH.
John and Dan lifted the couch and walked to the door, but it would not fit through the doorway. They tried to turn it and get it through that way, but it was caught on something. I craned my neck around and saw it was stuck on a little wreath that we had on our front door. I told them what was wrong and went to pull it off, but Lisa shouted, "I'll get it!". Before I could say anything, she was barreling towards the open (or what she thought was the open) screen door. It happened so fast no one had time to stop her, we all just had to watch in horror as this vicious turn of events transpired. Lisa ran right through that screen door like a fucking linebacker on Superbowl Sunday. She fell straight through and onto our small metal bistro table on the patio, the legs of which bent and collapsed, throwing her head first into a cement wall. As the dust cleared, Lisa was just laying limply, face down in the rubble, and she didn't even move or say anything for a good 30 seconds.
Finally she stirred, and we offered up a stunned,"Are you okay?", to which she answered "NO!" and got up and went to her room in tears, saying she wasn't helping anymore. Dan and I were sympathetic, but John's first instinct was to laugh at the whole scene. I yelled at him for being an insensitive dickhead, but deep down I really couldn't blame him.
Lisa laughs about it now, so I guess she's okay. But that table was never the same.
The end.